


two bombs and one goes off

by Chet_Un_Gwan



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chet_Un_Gwan/pseuds/Chet_Un_Gwan
Summary: Jonathan Sims stopped thinking that the world might have some measure of goodness in it a long while ago, somewhere after a dead man told him that fear was the only power out there and before he was thrown into a coma, left with the inescapable knowledge that Tim was certainly dead.





	two bombs and one goes off

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm currently writing a fic where Tim and Jacobi meet, but I got struck by this midway through it. Yay?

Jonathan Sims stopped thinking that the world might have some measure of goodness in it a long while ago, somewhere after a dead man told him that fear was the only power out there and before he was thrown into a coma, left with the inescapable knowledge that Tim was certainly dead.

So when a man comes in to make a statement who is bitterly sarcastic and jaded, and apparently skilled in explosives, Jon wonders if perhaps this is his punishment, a haunting sent from some force outside of the fears that war around him. The man doesn't really look like Tim, but he has the same hair color and the same baring of teeth that pretends to be a smile, and that's enough to make Jon suddenly feel very, very tired.

"My name's Jacobi. Daniel Jacobi," he says as soon as he sits down, mouth curling in dry humor.

"You realize, of course, that you do not have to reference James Bond just because I'm British," Jon responds.

"Who says that's why I'm referencing it?"

Daniel Jacobi is slumped in his chair deliberately, sprawling over the furniture as if attempting to show as much disrespect as possible in as short a time as he can manage. It's very effective, though it would be more so if he didn't also tense up every time there is a noise behind him. There are rather a lot of noises, and Jacobi does not look happy.

Jon sighs through his nose and takes out his laptop to see if the recording works on it, doing his best to get this over as fast as possible. The less time this man has to remind him of Tim, the better. Besides, there is so much work to do, and it would be irresponsible to drag this out in the hopes of a break. Foolish to hope that all Jacobi has is a long, made-up story, amusing in its irrelevance and distracting in its creativity. They need solid information to move forward on, not some fiction meant as a stupid joke.

He seems irreverent enough to make something up, Jon tells himself, not sure if he believes it. Yes, the man clearly doesn't hold the institute in any regard, but he also seems as though he doesn't care enough for this to be a prank. Miserable apathy at its finest, action without any hope for peace. Jacobi's attitude is so reminiscent of Tim in the last weeks before the Unknowing, that for a second Job has to turn away, busy himself with the laptop and a notepad in order to get some space in the cramped office.

"You mentioned a space mission, is that correct?" Jon asks without looking up.

Jacobi shifts in his seat, discomfort showing through his apathy. "Yeah, but it's. It's complicated. Look, when you guys say you want to hear about weird things, do you mean like ghosts? Because I don't really have ghosts per say. I mean, ghosts aren't supposed have bodies, right?"

Jon responds as much on autopilot as he can manage, queuing up the recording program. "Not just ghosts, no. We get all sorts of statements."

"What about alien doubles?"

Jon glances up sharply to find Jacobi watching him, examining his reaction. He is tensed, as if ready to leap out of the chair and run, his worst expectations apparent on his face in shape if not in detail. Jon glances at the laptop, and considers just grabbing the tape recorder right off the bat, instead of trying this first. Perhaps his faints hopes of a meaningless statement are to be dashed.

"I have taken statements about doppelgangers before," Jon says carefully, hoping that this is the correct response, the one that will not cause Jacobi to flee.

It must at least not be the wrong one, because Jacobi settles back down. He looks tired now, less wary and more bitter. "You get a lot of crazies in here?" He asks.

That drags something like a smile out of Jon. "Our fair share," he says, "though less than you'd think."

"Well, add one more to the list." He rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, Jon notes just how exhausted he looks. The dark circles under his eyes nearly match Jon's own.

"You think your story isn't true?" He asks.

Jacobi actually laughs out loud, a surprisingly sudden sound that makes Jon jump. "Oh, I didn't say that. Just cause I'm crazy doesn't mean that I'm a liar." He shrugs. "I mean, I'm that too, but I'll hold back this time. No long story short from me."

Jon isn't quite sure what to make of the last sentence, pausing in his motions to attempt to sort it out. Seeing that, Jacobi waves his hand at him tiredly, as if he has already lost interest in whatever joke he was making. "Forget about it. It doesn't mean anything. Ready to start recording?"

Jon isn't ready, abruptly not sure if he wants to hear whatever brought this man before him low. Not sure he wants to bear witness yet again to someone spiraling down into themselves, forgetting how to come out the other side alive. He doesn't know that _he_ can come out the other side, anymore. Alive, or human.

Not that it matters. Not that what he wants and fights for has ever changed anything. Tim is dead, Sasha is dead and hopelessly forgotten, Martin is lost somewhere to the Lukases, hiding from him. In the end, he couldn't protect any of them. What worse could he possibly do, hearing this broken and angry man's statement, adding it to his collection of horrors.

Jon looks back at his computer, hits record. The program runs smoothly, and he breaths a silent sigh of relief, a great weight lifted from him as he finally dares to hope that this is one dream that he won't be haunting. "Statement of Daniel Jacobi, concerning the failed Hephaestus mission and the dissolution of Goddard Futuristics. Taken direct from subject. Statement begins."


End file.
